Why?
by lirpa
Summary: I had too much time and Grace wanted a fic. Enter an angsting Steven muse and you have Why? Dark.


Why?   
  
Yah! a fic that isn't poetry. The people on the board I post at liked this fic, so I   
thought that the people on fanfiction.net might too. I'll warn you now, it's very   
dark, and kinda morbid, and I'm not one of those happily ever after people. Now,   
without further ado, the fic. Please enjoy and review. Oh, and this fic was posted   
in tiny parts at the board, so if it all seems anticlimatic that you just have the next   
I'm sorry. Now, really, on wth the fic.   
  
Why?   
  
  
  
As I sit here, in my little white cell, I wonder. I wonder   
where I went wrong. Should I have done something else?   
Why? Why did all my fellow believers abandon me? I thought   
they were my friends. The only real friends I'd had in a long   
, long time. When did they stop believing? When did I stop   
believing? Can I go on? cleaning up the WWF was my goal,   
my mission, my duty in life, and, and it was my dream. A   
dream they has now been crushed. Who ever thought it   
would be so hard? Who ever thought that the fans and   
superstars would fight so much. Who ever thought that the   
bonds of morality would chafe so many, make so many   
desperate, make so many hate me? I never wanted to be   
hated, all I ever wanted was to make the world a better   
place. As cliche as that sounds, it's true. I wanted to stop   
immorality. I didn't want children to turn on the television   
to see naked women and violence. I wanted children to   
stop thinking that violence would solve everything.   
I wanted to clean up the World Wrestling Federation.   
I wanted to make the world a better place. In the future   
I didn't want seven year olds turning oon the TV at 7:00pm   
to see women wearing almost nothing and people settling   
fues by putting people through tables. Was that too much   
to ask?   
  
You want me to tell you about my life? My troubles? You   
want me to let you into my mind? Believe me, you can't   
handle my mind. How do I know? I can't even handle my   
mind, and it's my goddamn mind. Very well, if you insist,   
but I did warn you.   
  
Okay, it all started the day I formed the Right to Cansor.   
You wanted me to tell you all my troubles, didn't you? Yes,   
I know, but this is where my troubles start. No, not in my   
childhood, my childhood was happy. My problems all   
started when I formed the RTC. I started off alone. Yes,   
Iknow that's not unusual, let me continue. I believe I saved   
Terri from having to strip off her top in front of the crowd,   
but I'm not certain. It's shouldn't be that hard to   
remember you say, what do you know? Do you have any   
idea how many house shows, televised events, and pay-per-   
views that is? No, and neither do I. I lost count a while ago.   
So there, Mr. Think-you-know-everything, ha.   
  
Anyways, I started off alone. I was doing fine, the crowd   
hated me, but underneath all that booing I know the fans   
took my message home with them. Took it back to their   
families from the countless arenas I performed in, and   
that was what I wanted. Parents don't pay enough   
attention to what their children watch on television. What?   
No, I don't want to talk about my childhood, my childhood   
was fine. Can we get back to the subject? Yes, so the fans   
booed me out of arena after arena. I voiced my mind and   
I went after the Godfather and his hos. Vince had been   
loving the heat I was getting, he wanted to turn me into   
some new age Hitler, I think. I just wanted parents to care   
about what their kids were watching on television. I've told   
you no, now leave my childhood alone. I don't want to talk   
about it. You want to help me, huh? That's nice, you can   
help me my listening to my real problems instead of   
making up new problems you want me to deal with. Very   
well, wher was I? Oh yes, Hitler. Vince wanted to make it   
seem like I was brainwashing people into joining me, that   
I was rebuilding their minds in my image, I wasn't, not   
really.   
  
So, he had Bull join my team. That was what he called it,   
my team. Like we were playing baseball or maybe basket-   
ball. You don't see any problems. Hmm,let me enlighten   
you, I hated Bull. He was big and he was dumb. How was   
he going to help with my crusade? And Vince knew this,   
Vince knew this all to well. That's a good one, but, sadly, I   
already knew Vince was a bastard. Everyone who follows   
my profession know Vince is a bastard. What is my pro-   
fession? You don't get out much, do you? I thought not, I   
am a professional wrestler, by the way. No, it's not all fake,   
the injuries are real, very real.   
  
Now, my problems all started with Bull...   
  
~*~*~*~*~*   
(3rd person POV)   
  
You could hear a timer click, and then the sound of a voice.   
The voice sounded like it practised being soothing, much   
like some people practise speeches in front of their bed-   
room mirrors, or admire there new clothes. The Doctor, it   
is assumed, tells Steven that there would be people coming   
to take him back to his cell, that dinner would be served   
soon, that all would be well. He tells Steven all of this in his   
soothing voice, his lullaby voice, reserved for the only most   
"special" patients.   
  
Two guards, at least we shall assume thay are gaurds,   
enter the room on quiet feet. They each seize an arm and   
haul him to his feet. Their blue uniforms immaculate, as   
always. Between them they steer Steven to the door,   
watching for the shiny brass buckles on Steven's white]   
coat. The door closes silently behind them.   
  
And that is when Steven sees the white walls, enough to   
drive a peron insane, if those housed in this building weren't   
already insane. And when Steven starts thrashing they   
tighten the brass buckles on his pristine white staight   
jacket, so he no longer poses a threat to himself or them.   
They do all this with a percision that speaks of many   
patients, of many walks down these long white hallways.   
They open the cell door, 61B, and lead Steven in, sit him   
down on the bed. Then, they close the door and leave   
Steven to his fate. And that is when the screaming starts,   
screaming that never stops.   
  
~~~~~~   
Yes, all my problems started with Bull. Let me explain, okay?. Yes, well didn't see   
things the way I saw things. To him the whole RTC was just an angle. Oh, yes an   
angle is like the storyline, or the sricpt. The angles we use are usually thought up   
by the writers, or Vince. Sometimes Vince makes up the angles, and the RTC   
was one of Vince's angles. The writers hated RTC, hell, everyone hated RTC. But   
back to Bull, Bull was one of those people who you instantly know will never really   
believe, wait how would you know. Anyways, Bull would never truly believe. Okay, I   
know you're slow, but think about it for a second, yes I know it hurts, but please   
try. You're thinking really hard? Well, do you see the problem? Ohhhkay, Bull never   
believed, correct? Yes, I know I just told you that. I'm so glad you remembered.   
If I couldn't make Bull believe, how could I make the world believe? Yes, you think   
about it. and whiloe you're thinking I'm sure you can find some asprin for the   
headache all that thinking will give you, oh, and while you're at it, get me some   
too. Noo, I don't have a headache, yet.I'm sure I will by the end of his, this ...   
thing. Well, you'll have to get them because I can't grab anything with my nice   
white coat on. Thank you, now on with the story. Why? You wnt to continue to talk   
about asprin? Yes, well you're supposed to be helping me, talking about asprin   
doesn't help me. Why? I have to explain everything to you, don't I? And before   
you even think about asking I don't want to talk about my childhood. Okay, I'll   
stop insulting you're intelligence, for now.   
  
Bull and I didn't get along. Vince thought if I spent more time with Bull I'd get to   
know him better and we'd become friends. Ohh, you want to know how Vince's   
plan worked? Well I got to know bul better, but all I got from that was a head-   
ache somewhat similar to the one I'm getting now., and we never became friends.   
Why? Let me think, hmm. Could it be because Bull didn't like me and I didn't like   
Bull? Gee, I wonder.   
  
But despite our out of the ring problems we worked well together in the arena   
and in the ring. That is top say Bull knew enough to keep his mouth shuy and let   
me do the talking, the crowd can sense a fake. Together we went after the God-   
father What was wrong with him? Well, he came down to the ring with scantily   
clad women, and not just one or two, but five ot six or more. Children don't need   
to see that, do they? Smart boy, I think you're finally catching on about the child-   
hood thing. I didn't think so, so I decided to stop him from bringing those ... wo-   
men to the ring we had a little fued going on. A fued is kinda like a war, a grudge   
thing. I make you loose your matches, you make me loose my matches? Well,   
that's what we had going on. It was fine, but Vince ... Yes, Vince is my boss. Vince   
McMahon, pioneer of pro wrestling. Oh, you are hopeless. Do I have to tell you   
everything? Yes, stupid question, of course I do. It's really sad, you're a grown   
man, after all.   
  
Anyways, Vince decided to get rid the hos, th gimmick was getting old. A gimmick   
is something that gets you over with the fans, Idiot. Anyways, Vince decided to   
get rid of the hos, a fan favorite, and then he decided that the Godfather would   
be converted , he would be called the "Goodfather" and fight for marality in the   
WWF. He did believe, or rather thorough the force of my convictions he came to   
believe. Oh, the timer. I suppose this story is for another time anyways Will you   
call the guards now? Yes, I thought so. Well, I'll see you again soon,a nd yes,   
dammit I'm very sure I don't want to talk about my childhood. Goodday, Doctor.   
  
  
~~~~~~~~~   
  
With that, the guards entered and carted off a docile Steven Richards, a Steven   
who had poured his heart out in a hope, a plea, for understanding. He had   
lowered his guard, lket himself hope that the doctor could understand. He let   
himself forget that he din't need help. His hopes had been crushed by the doctor   
's inability to listen and understand. A callousness, or perhaps an ineptness, that   
had left Steven a broken man. And this time there wasa no screaming, just the   
silence, the silence that seemed to stretch into eternity.   
  
  
~~~~~~~~~`   
  
Ahh, yes, the Goodfather. You must understand that he and Bull were great   
friends. As I said last time, though, he came to believe in my mission to clean up   
the world, starting with the World Wrestling Federation. We worked well together,   
not in the beginning, but later. You want to know what happened in the beginning?   
Very well. The new "Goodfather" resented his heel turn. The cheers had meant a   
lot to him and the RTC wasn't cheered, more like booed out of the building. No   
one liked us. It took him a while to get used to his new role in life. Vince also   
implemented his stupid plan again and we were forecd to travel together, to room   
together, to share a locker room, too close to each other for too long. In retro-   
spect, I'm suprised we didn't kill each other. But back to the story, w had to do   
everything together. It did help Bull and the Goodfather though. They got along   
and learned a lot about each other, Goodfather even convinced Bull to suspend   
his disbelief of our cause. All was going pretty well, I guess. Only one thing bother-   
ed me, I wasn't in the spotlight anymore, the other two were overshadowing me.   
They became more in the RTC than I was. People didn't think of Steven Richards   
when they thought of the Right to Censor, they thought of Bull and the Good-   
father. That annoyed me, a lot. Why? Well, I can admit it, I was jealous. RTC was   
my brainchild, my crusade, and they were taking it and changing it. And then   
they did something so very despicable that it's hard to talk about, even now.   
You remember the fued I had started with the Godfather? Yes, that's right,   
similar to a grudge match. Well, they asked Vince, you do remember who Vince   
is, don't you? Yes, that's right, the boss. Well, they asked Vince if the RTC could   
start a fued with Val Venis, his gimmick was a porn star, something RTC would   
logically oppose. Vince liked the idea. I still can't believe it. So we started the   
fued. Venis had just recently dropped his porn star image, he was ripe for the   
picking, at least the boys thought so. He put up quite a fight, insulted us, beat   
us up, and hated us and still we kept coming. Although I wanted to stop, the   
others were insistent. So we kept going and going and going for what seemed   
like an eternity. Until they decided to step up the action against Venis. Listening   
to their plan wold be the first time I would honestly have to say that I was ash-   
amed of being a member of the Roght to Censor. Why? Why? Because we kid-   
napped Val Venis. Did it work? That's objective. Bull and the Goodfather yelled   
and screamed at him and told him the wonders of morality all night. And another   
night and yet he remained unmoving and they gave in, they called me. At that   
time I did something that I'm not proud of. I converted Val Venis to the Right to   
Censor. I made him believe all that he had hated, all that he had mocked just two   
days before. the next night Val Venis joined the Right to Censor...   
  
Yes, I suppose I do want to go back to my cell. Of course, the guards will accom-   
pany me Yes, of course...   
  
~~~~~   
  
In came the guards and out went Steven, between the two men in blue uniforms.   
Down the white hallways that seemd to go on forever. They stopped in frony of   
61B and led Steven in. all was quiet, a bone chilling quiet. After a while a nurse   
came with Steven's medication. There was a small tussle, the little pills thrown   
to the floor and crushed underfoot before the guards were called back. Only   
then did the screaming start, tortured screams that echoed through the misty   
halls of time and into eternity.   
  
Yes, I'm back again. No, there wasn't any disturbance. No, of course I took my   
medication. Do you want to get on with the story or not? Okay then, we left off   
just after I had taken Val apart and molded the pieces into ... a more pleasing   
image. The RTC spent some time making long winded speeches and being com-   
pletely unscrupulous in the ring. The people hated us and I hated spouting ideas   
I believed in on the ramp and then do down to the ring and completely disregard   
them. In the ring I became someone eager to prove myself as the best part of   
RTC, and the others didn't see it. But be that as it may, the people booed and   
there were more anti-RTC signs in the crowd than ever before. You know what?   
The boos became louder, echoing in the building even after we left the stage.   
It was strangely uncomfortable. I hadn't minded the boos before. Maybe   
because I felt I had done something to deserve those boos was the reason I felt   
miserable. Whatever it was I felt miserable. We walked out onto the ramp like we   
owned it, told the crowd exactly what we thought, went to the ring. If we won it   
was by cheating. If we lost, that was okay, we'd censor them later. I tried to start   
fueds with several people in the back, but the RTC was brushed off like an   
annoying insect, I was brushed off like an annoying insect. Then Ivory joined us.   
She had been listening in the back, she truly believed what I said. She was pure   
and innocent, unaware of the deception and mind games I had become so used   
to. She was the RTC's downfall. An idealist in a world of realists, so like myself.   
When the RTC began to crumble around us she held strong to our convictions,   
convictions that even I, the leader and founder of the Right to Cansor, was   
beginning to doubt. And as the RTC floated down from the cloud we had been so   
precariously perched on the fights became more and more frequent. I stopped   
believing, I said to hell with it. And there was Ivory, trying to make things work,   
trying to take us back in time, back to happier, more prosperous days.   
She always thought things could be worked out. That there was a solution to the   
madness and chaos that had become the RTC. She believed until the end, when I   
shattered her dreams, when i turned my back on the monster that I had built.   
And like I knew it would it collapsed in on itself. It had no leaders, only followers.   
you cannot have followers following followers, they have no idea the way in which   
to go. So the RTC was destroyed, and I ended up here, aftera mental breakdown,   
of course. The others were just in the RTC to serve their own needs, achieve their   
own goals. But Ivory, she believed. I will never forget the look on her face whan I   
announced that I was quitting. She looked so heartbroken. You know what else   
I'm quitting? No? Don't worry, you will soon. Ahh, yes, the timer, always there to   
interupt me at the best parts. If I had anything more to say I should like to   
destroy that timer. But I don't have anything more to say, do I, doctor?   
  
~~~~~*****   
  
The guards escorted him back to his cell and for once Steven wished he had a   
window from which he could see the sun. That did not matter though, he would   
see the sun tomorrow so that could not sway him. His mind was made up. When   
the nurse came at 11:00 he was fine, sitting on the bed wedged into a corner,   
playing with the edge of the sheet. When the relief nurse came to check on him   
at 6:00 he was swaying, feet inches above the ground, held by a sheet. For   
Steven there would be no more screams ehoing into eternity or eerie silences ,   
just the gentle sway of his lifeless corpse as the nurse found him. The funny thing   
is that his body was found just as rhe sun was beginning it's course across the   
sky, just at the edges of dawn.   
  
Here ends the tale of Steven Richards, for there isn't anything more to tell. His   
life started at his birth, progressed through his childhood, perhaps a little more   
troubled than he ever told us, passed into adulthood, where he reached for his   
dreams and goals and fell just a bit short, even if he was adored by millions   
around the world, and ended in a plain white cell, the sheet he used to strangle   
himself his only company in his last minutes. Let us leave Steven now and hope   
that whatever he could not find in life he can find in death.   
  
although the screams are silent now in cell 61B if you close your eyes and concen-   
trate hard on that misty palce known only as eternity you can still hear the   
echoes of a tortured soul. 


End file.
